I can smell it - NYC's human traffic, crowds so thick every back is pressed against every stomach and everyone is wondering why the hell they decided to do this in the first place. The excessively cold wait, huddled against strangers and friends, again thinking this was a terrible idea. Food plastered in pockets, empty bottles hanging from frozen fingertips, just in case.
And of course I'm not there, not yet. Tyler and I will drive from Huggiesville to State College, spend the night, meet up with Michelle and Curtis, and make the what seems to be 5.5 hour journey to the heart of New York. We will stand pressed against each other for a meager 10 hours, listening briefly to Daughtry and J.Lo, and I will be smiling, no need to worry there.
Crowds don't bother me in the slightest. I love to get lost in them. I will stow cash in one pocket, my pretty pink mace bottle in another, and whatever food might be able to fit where, because we're gonna be hungry.
And then we'll count down the precious hours, minutes, seconds until the ball drops. Lots of kissin', huggin', drinkin', chattin', laughin', glad to be in the midst of the greatest New Year's party. Confetti will fall from the sky, making the night that much more fun.
What a glorious way to ring in 2010. Bring it on.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
olympic diving boards
It's one in the morning and you wonder where
the time has gone, where it's been, why it's not
stopping
for you.
You feel the hope of each new day cloud beneath
a silver moon, and panic escapes, panting,
breathing labored like lips under pressure.
The feel of turmoil slithers in dreams, you're
not dreaming, but you lie awake at night
wondering why it can't be you who falls
asleep smiling.
It's not you. It never has been you.
Time waits for nobody, but somebody must move
the pawn because the sand sinks slowly
between closed fingers and runs out.
And suddenly, you fall asleep with that smile,
those dreams replaying in your head, but
they don't last for long. They move between reality
and hope, but which is true
you ask. Laced fingers feel the truth, and only
time will tell.
the time has gone, where it's been, why it's not
stopping
for you.
You feel the hope of each new day cloud beneath
a silver moon, and panic escapes, panting,
breathing labored like lips under pressure.
The feel of turmoil slithers in dreams, you're
not dreaming, but you lie awake at night
wondering why it can't be you who falls
asleep smiling.
It's not you. It never has been you.
Time waits for nobody, but somebody must move
the pawn because the sand sinks slowly
between closed fingers and runs out.
And suddenly, you fall asleep with that smile,
those dreams replaying in your head, but
they don't last for long. They move between reality
and hope, but which is true
you ask. Laced fingers feel the truth, and only
time will tell.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
The gift that...makes your eyes bleed?
Moni gave me pepper spray for Christmas. It's in a pretty pink bottle and hisses every time I unlock the cap.
Hmmmm.
Hmmmm.
Friday, December 25, 2009
good night, and good luck.
Christmas craziness is over. I'm numbingly tired and sweetly satisfied. I don't know about your family, but my family wakes up early every Christmas morning. I'm talking 5 or 6AM. Actually, let me set you straight; I wake up at 5 or 6 in the morning and I tip-toe out to our tree in the dark and set my presents underneath the tree. Then I race upstairs to shake my sister awake, who then shakes our brother awake, who in turn wriggles on our parents' bed like a worm in water.
It's a scene. I start the scene and they finish it, and we all stumble downstairs in a frenzy because by then, we've all been sitting around in a sleep-deprived daze waiting for cameras to be found and orange juice to be drank and teeth to be brushed. Do you have odd rituals like that? This year, after I poured each glass of pulp-filled orangeness, I gradually hid my glass behind the coffee table. Nobody, and I mean nobody, drinks orange juice right after brushing their teeth.
An hour later, our living room was covered in wrapping paper and boxes and pretty bags. Legos and board games and a Nintendo Wii and a ping pong table and weird things like a ukulele (!!!) and socks, lots of socks, (all mine) littered every available corner of the room. Our Christmas tree twinkled beautifully amidst the chaos.
And then...then come the post-Christmas gift unwrapping rituals. It's a funny thing, really. See, I don't like clutter. So as soon as everyone is finished searching their stockings, I collect every last one of my gifts and unload them in my room. I don't just stop there, though. I put everything away in its place (because there is a place for everything). My sister stacks all of her gifts neatly and orderly in piles, but then leaves them there, in the living room, for days. Drives me nuts. And then my brother is the absolute worst. His stuff is everywhere. It's all over the living room, in the dining room, on the kitchen table, strewn around the dog and the lamps and we're finding gifts for days that he forgot he even unwrapped. It's madness.
So, I now bid Christmas farewell. It's almost over, and I'll miss it greatly until next year when the craziness can consume me once again. Relaxation and a new year are staring me in the eye, and this year, I welcome both with open arms.
Let the fun keep on comin'. :)
It's a scene. I start the scene and they finish it, and we all stumble downstairs in a frenzy because by then, we've all been sitting around in a sleep-deprived daze waiting for cameras to be found and orange juice to be drank and teeth to be brushed. Do you have odd rituals like that? This year, after I poured each glass of pulp-filled orangeness, I gradually hid my glass behind the coffee table. Nobody, and I mean nobody, drinks orange juice right after brushing their teeth.
An hour later, our living room was covered in wrapping paper and boxes and pretty bags. Legos and board games and a Nintendo Wii and a ping pong table and weird things like a ukulele (!!!) and socks, lots of socks, (all mine) littered every available corner of the room. Our Christmas tree twinkled beautifully amidst the chaos.
And then...then come the post-Christmas gift unwrapping rituals. It's a funny thing, really. See, I don't like clutter. So as soon as everyone is finished searching their stockings, I collect every last one of my gifts and unload them in my room. I don't just stop there, though. I put everything away in its place (because there is a place for everything). My sister stacks all of her gifts neatly and orderly in piles, but then leaves them there, in the living room, for days. Drives me nuts. And then my brother is the absolute worst. His stuff is everywhere. It's all over the living room, in the dining room, on the kitchen table, strewn around the dog and the lamps and we're finding gifts for days that he forgot he even unwrapped. It's madness.
So, I now bid Christmas farewell. It's almost over, and I'll miss it greatly until next year when the craziness can consume me once again. Relaxation and a new year are staring me in the eye, and this year, I welcome both with open arms.
Let the fun keep on comin'. :)
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Butterfly Kisses
Context: Driving my brother (8) and sister (10) to meet my mom for dinner. Conversation:
Bro: Aeriale! Guess where I want to live when I grow up?
Me: Where Gav?
Bro: Well, I'm going to live with Logan (his friend) and we're going to live in the rain forest behind a waterfall. And I'm going to have a pet jaguar. And you need a code to get in.
Me: Wow. That sounds amazing! What's the code?
Bro: 67603. Don't tell anyone.
Me: Promise. So, where do you want to live Lacey?
Sis: I'm gonna live with Courtney (her friend), and I want to have an underground tunnel for all of my pets to roam around in.
Me: Sweet! So, I'm thinking that I want to live on a cloud.
Bro: Yeah!!
Sis: Aeriale, don't you fall through clouds?
Me: No! Cherubs sit on clouds all the time.
Bro: Yeah!!
Me: Either a cloud, or a sunken pirate ship.
Bro: YEAH!! Me tooooo!!!
*chuckles*
My siblings are still at that age when serious conversations are hilarious, and anything seems possible. It's so great. For a lovely fifteen minute drive, we listened to Norah Jones and talked about houses under water and jaguars for pets and cherubs on clouds. Those are my favorite conversations. Nothing seemed unrealistic because to them, it all made sense. Everything makes sense. Why bother with regular neighborhoods when you can live behind a waterfall in the rain forest? Why mess with dogs and cats when jaguars are at your fingertips?
Until I was probably 9, I wanted to be a butterfly when I grew up. Not even joking. I wanted to fly. I used to climb the highest trees and sit on the limbs for hours, pretending that whenever I felt like leaving, I could simply spread my wings and take off. I was never one to build cardboard wings and jump off roofs, but I was the kind of child that would lay in the grass and pretend that I could soar through the clouds. Being a butterfly was my aspiration -- to shed this life and move onto something completely radical, something that was beautiful and peaceful and able to jet off at a moments notice.
I'm no longer 9, but I'm still that dreaming girl in the grass. My idea of the perfect house may not be in the rain forest with jaguars, but I'm thinking more log cabin meets cottage by lake. With a tin roof to hear the rain. There must be a tin roof.
My dreams are more realistic, more manageable, but sometimes...sometimes, I still want to be a butterfly. And that's one dream I save for rainy days when my life seems too bogged down with callous rigidity. I spread my colorful wings and fly away.
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